The Fire in Her Eyes
by Imrryr
Summary: Buffy and Faith have met before; many, many times. A story of reconciliation, romance, and past lives. Eventual Fuffy.
1. Act 1 - Chapter 1

AN – So, I've had this idea for a long Fuffy story for over a year now, and after much angsting and second-guessing my writing abilities I've decided to stop being such a baby and just go ahead and start it. Hopefully, this won't take years to complete, but I do tend to get distracted with other projects and I take forever to finish things, so if that sort of thing irritates you, you might wanna just leave and check back in a year or two *chuckles nervously*

This whole idea came to me after rereading Electra's _Parallels_. And even though you certainly don't need to read her story to understand mine, you should still check it out sometime, and then go and read _Walk the Line_ cuz it's one of the best Fuffy fics I've ever read ^^

...

**Setting**: The end of season 4 and beyond, diverging more and more from canon as the years progress.

**Rated M** for the usual things you would expect from the Buffyverse: violence, sex, and Faith being all hot and stuff.

* * *

_The Fire in Her Eyes_ by Imrryr

Act 1 – Chapter 1

...

_'The power of the Slayer and all who wield it._

_Last to ancient first, we invoke thee._

_Grant us thy domain and primal strength._

_Accept us and the power we possess._

_Make us mind and heart and spirit enjoined._

_Let the hand encompass us. Do thy will.'_

_- _The Enjoining Spell

...

Buffy Summers

Sunnydale. May 2, 2000.

...

At this point it was practically seared into her memory. Ever since their spectacular failure two nights ago, Buffy kept repeating the words of the enjoining spell in her mind, as if by so doing she could figure out what went so horribly wrong, despite her hopelessness when it came to all things magical.

She only really understood the basics; there were magical items of course - gourds, powders and other weird things - but the most important requirements for the spell were her three friends. Each of them were intended to add their abilities to the power of the First Slayer:

_'Willow, the spirit.'_

_'Xander, the heart.'_

_'Giles, the mind.'_

Despite how much it still hurt, she clenched her swollen fist. _'The hand.'_

With everyone's powers combined into her body, and the added strength of the First Slayer flowing through her veins, Buffy should've had at least had a _chance_ of defeating Adam. Instead, the fight went on, and on, and on, minute after grueling minute, and absolutely nothing happened beyond her butt getting thoroughly kicked. She'd never be able to put into words the despair that washed over her when it finally sunk in that the spell wasn't working. She expected to die in that hole in the ground.

What if it was all her fault somehow? She had been busy fighting - okay, not so much 'fighting' as 'distracting' - Adam as her friends performed the delicate spell in the next room. What if something she had done messed it all up?

Buffy flexed her aching fingers again. The ring and middle digits on her right hand were still badly swollen and tender. Unfortunately, they were not mending as quickly as her wounds normally did. Slayer healing didn't work so well when you suffered such a large and varied array of wounds, she supposed. Bones had been broken, muscles torn, and she had caught no less than four rounds from Adam's machine-gun hand.

Getting shot hurt a lot more than the movies made it seem.

If she hadn't been a slayer, she would've certainly died. As it was, it was a lucky thing that the underground lab hadn't been built to withstand the kind of destruction meted out when a Frankenstein terminator monster throws a slayer around the room like a rag-doll and then tries to blow her away with an arm-mounted missile launcher. Score one for government budget cuts.

Though admittedly, she could understand why the Feds might not have foreseen that particular scenario.

Even with a broken arm, Buffy had been able to drag herself out from under the mass of twisted metal and plastic panels that used to be ceiling. Adam was trapped further in, buried under the rubble but alive – no surprise there - and she could hear him struggling to dig his way out. With the lights destroyed, the facility was darker than a tomb on a moonless night. There was no time to try and finish him off, even if she had been able to do more than hop on one leg and bleed on him.

When she had rejoined her bewildered friends in the next room, it was just in time to see a vampire burst through the far door, his game-face covered in blood and his yellow eyes wild from recent kills.

Thankfully, "help" had arrived just in the nick of time... in the form of Spike.

Rescued by Spike. Now, there was a sad fact that bore repeating: Rescued. By. Spike. _Ugh_. She'd never live it down.

She reminded herself to thank him one day, and on that day she would stab him through the heart with the pointy end of her finest stake. She wasn't about to forget that the vampire had nearly gotten them all killed in order to get that chip out of his head. He had played a role in Adam's rise, however bumbling and inept his execution of that role had turned out to be.

Buffy shuddered and tried not to think of the hurtful words she had said to her friends. Maybe Spike had put the ideas in their heads - _some_ of them, at any rate - but that didn't erase the fact that they had still given voice to them.

'_It's all in the past,'_ they'd later said, but she could see in their eyes that it wasn't. Not _really_. She had been dismissive, and insulting, and angry; she'd called them all useless. You didn't just forget something like that.

Maybe in time.

Maybe.

There came a knock at her door.

She made no attempt to move from her spot on the bed. All the pain she had been feeling for the past two days had by this time dulled down to a nice, bearable ache. She didn't want to unsettle things by moving again. Instead she called out, "Yeah?"

Ugh. Even her voice sounded like it had been beaten to within an inch of its life.

The door opened and Willow's worried face peeked out from behind the door jamb. "How are you feeling?"

Buffy would've shrugged, but her shoulder was one of the many places on her body that hurt when she moved. "Great," she said with a sigh.

Willow frowned as her friend continued to stare lifelessly up at the bare, white ceiling. Without a word, she quietly shut the door behind her and joined Buffy on the bed, lying gently down beside her. Buffy was reminded of many highschool sleepovers past, except that they definitely weren't sixteen anymore. Willow's voice was tender and quiet, as if she were afraid that being too loud might cause Buffy greater injury, "Giles says he might know what went wrong... with the spell, I mean," she said.

Buffy wanted to say, _'Screw the spell. Let's all just leave and never come back. Let the army handle the problem they created,' _but she didn't. All that came out of her mouth was, "Neat."

"He says if you're feeling better you should come over. Your mom even said we can use the car, provided you don't drive, of course."

The teasing remark went completely over Buffy's head. "Okay," she mumbled.

Willow's frown only grew and there was another long, awkward pause. "Oh, and Riley's out of intensive care."

Again, the slayer's response was less than enthusiastic. "Great."

"Buffy?"

The slayer blinked, she knew that tone of voice.

"Are you okay? Like_ really _okay?"

Buffy shook her head. She had never felt less okay in her entire life. And then, for some reason that particular realization brought about even more distant memories: memories of Angelus' reign of terror, then the night she stabbed Faith in the chest, and finally the fight she'd had with her friends only days before; a fight that had her going after Adam _alone_. Had she actually succeeded in finding him then, she would've died.

She blinked away tears, hoping Willow wouldn't notice. Now she felt even _less_ okay. Wonderful.

Never had she felt so alone, or so hopeless. With the help of her friends, Buffy had always won against anything the demon world threw at her. She had defeated the Master, Angelus, the mayor; things had always worked out, but not this time. This time it really was hopeless.

"Oh, Buffy." Before she realized what was happening, Willow was leaning over and hugging her tightly. Buffy yelped in pain like a kicked puppy.

Willow was off the bed in a flash. "Oh, God, Buffy! I am _so_ sorry."

The last thing Willow probably expected was for Buffy to start laughing, but that's exactly what happened. It started as a chuckle, but quickly grew into real honest to God laughter that left her with tears running down her cheeks by the time she calmed herself down.

If Willow had appeared to be concerned for her friend before, she now looked like she was one step away from calling the local asylum.

"I can't believe you hugged me," Buffy said, still chuckling despite the pain coming from nearly every part of her bruised covered body. "I look like a prune that's been run through a meat-grinder."

Willow was actually smiling now. It was so good to see. "I'm sorry. I just wanted..." She stopped, as if to gather her thoughts, "You're not alone, Buffy. I want you to know that."

"And I meant what I said before, Will. I love you. I never should've said those things. And I should've been there for you." She was thinking specifically about her friend's relationship with Tara. A real friend would've been there for her, noticing the subtle changes in her best friend's behavior, offering support, instead of running off with her boyfriend and his military buddies. How bad a friend must she have been if Willow was afraid to confide in her after all they had been through together?

Buffy detected the slightest flinch in Willow's muscles, like she was thinking of hugging her again but quickly thought better of it.

"I love you too. Let's never fight again, all right?"

"Deal," Buffy replied, offering Willow the less bruised of her two hands to shake.

"Oh, Tara said she wants to help us this time. Anya too... for some reason."

That was the first good news she'd had in days, but did she really want to risk everyone's lives a second time? "I don't want people to get hurt because of this, because of _me_."

Willow placed a hand gently on Buffy's arm only after receiving an nod that it was okay to do so, "The people who love you are going to stand beside you, whether you want them to or not."

The old Buffy Summers would've run off on her own, like she always did, but Buffy didn't want that anymore. Being alone sucked. She sighed but smiled when she did it. Willow seemed relieved.

"So, we should really see Giles today," she reminded.

Buffy's stomach rumbled. "Do you think we could eat something first?"

Willow visibly perked up. "You're hungry?"

"Yeah." Buffy gingerly pushed herself onto her feet. Everything still hurt, but somehow she was actually feeling better, a lot better. "Maybe a sandwich... or three."

...

Giles hadn't raised his eyes from the enormous, musty spellbook on the kitchen counter even once since Buffy and Willow arrived. He looked in desperate need of a shave, and appeared to be wearing the same gray wool sweater she'd seen him in three days ago. Tara, Xander and Anya were already there, gathered in the living room, looking at least reasonably clean and well rested. "Well," Giles was saying, "the problem is, the enjoining spell requires the presence of the slayer."

Wow. Talk about stating the obvious. "Uh, _hello_," Buffy said, gesturing to herself, "Slayer. Right here."

Giles shook his head. "It's not that simple, unfortunately. To my knowledge, in the entire history of the slayer line there has never been an instance where more than one slayer has been active at any one time."

"But," Buffy said, deflating a bit, "I am _a_ slayer; the oldest slayer in fact."

"Yes, but the slayer line no longer runs _through_ you. When you died Kendra was called, and when she died Faith was called. Faith now embodies the slayer line, not you."

"So, if I died - _again_ - you don't think another slayer would be called?"

"The Council doesn't appear to believe so... although, admittedly they've never been very forthcoming with information about such things, even when we were in communication."

Well, that was kind of a relief. Imagine what would happen if the council could create new slayers just by temporarily killing the active ones over and over again. Dying once was more than enough for one lifetime, Buffy thought. Then she supposed that if they had Faith, the Council could actually still do something like that.

_Faith_. Whenever she thought of her sister slayer, the first thing to come to mind was those haunted brown eyes of hers as she stood in that downpour in L.A. Buffy had hoped that over time she'd simply forget her, but four months on and the sight and the pain were still as vivid as ever.

A sense of dread fell over her. "So, what you're saying is..."

Giles sighed. "Yes. In order for the spell to work, we need Faith."

Willow crossed her arms, her expression turning decidedly sour.

Buffy fell into the plusher of the two easy-chairs. After her large meal, her body didn't ache nearly as badly as it had earlier. Sometimes she forgot that even slayer healing worked best when you helped it along. "I take it you don't mean we should pray."

Giles' eyes met hers for half a second, long enough to express his predictable annoyance, "No, I do not."

Buffy sighed. "So we're just going to, what, break her out of jail?" Images of getting shot at by security guards flashed through her mind. Like hell she'd go through all that just to break _Faith_ of all people out of a place she so obviously belonged in.

"Something a little less dramatic than that, I think," Giles replied. He nodded in the direction of the living room table, "I have all the reagents for a teleportation spell right over there."

Buffy's brow knotted in confusion. In addition to a large glass jar of salt and several silk pouches of unidentifiable powders and stones, the required materials for a teleportation spell also apparently included a half-empty bottle of whiskey and an autographed copy of Queen's _A Night at the Opera._

Willow had taken to pacing the length of Giles' living room. To be honest, the anger radiating off of her was actually kind of scary; even Tara looked put off by it. "No one _needs_ Faith," she said, her voice oozing bitterness. "And don't jails usually notice when their dangerous inmates go missing?"

Tara spoke up for the first time, "There might be a way around that."

Buffy didn't miss how even now Willow's expression softened when Tara spoke. "What do you mean?"

"We could do a glamour spell. If someone were willing to take Faith's place -"

"_Take Faith's place_?" All eyes turned back to Willow, who's expression only turned apologetic at the hurt look on Tara's face. But even then she continued, "Who's crazy enough to want to hang out in a prison, pretending to be_ Faith_ of all people, all while Little Miss Unstable goes free?"

Tara blanched. "Well... um..."

"You don't know what she's like," Willow said, shaking her head dismissively.

"I would like everyone to keep in mind that there is nothing _keeping_ Faith in prison," Giles said, matter-of-factly. "Any slayer would be more than capable of breaking out of such a place."

Buffy frowned. She hadn't ever really considered that. Why _would_ someone like Faith just waste her life away behind prison walls? She had always been energetic, to say the least. Even when they had been friends of a sort, it was always difficult to keep the girl in one place for very long. And now she was locked up, constantly being told where to go, what to do, and how long to do it.

It didn't make sense. What was she planning? It had to be something, right? Angel must've lost his mind; he had no idea what Faith was really like.

Meanwhile, Willow and Giles were still arguing. "She should have armed guards on her at all times!"

"We're talking about a state prison here, Willow, not Azkaban."

"Azkaban?"

Caught out by the question, Giles took off his glasses and began rubbing them with the hem of his shirt. "It's a, uh, magical prison... from _Harry Potter_."

The ticking of the grandfather clock seemed to echo off the walls as everyone went silent, and even Buffy couldn't stop herself from smiling. Giles read _Harry Potter_. She'd file that fact away in case she ever needed to blackmail him.

Xander was grinning. "You haven't read _The Prisoner of Azkaban _yet, Will? And you call yourself a witch."

"Hey!" Willow squeaked, suddenly defensive. "I read the first two books. It's just I've been really busy this year with school," she glanced at Tara, "and, you know, _stuff_. Besides, witches in popular fantasy books are always portrayed _so _inaccurately_._"

This room was quickly reaching critical-mass of nerdiness and Buffy had to wave her arms to grab Giles' attention, "So, let's say I agree to your crazy plan. How long _is_ this all going to take anyway?"

"Well," he said, gathering his notes off the counter. "Before we attempt the enjoining ritual again, I would recommend waiting for at least a day after we perform the glamour and teleportation spells. Such spells are fairly draining experiences in their own rights."

"Wait," Xander said, "If you can do all that, why not just teleport Adam to the moon or something?"

Again, the whole room went quiet. Giles pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "There are several reasons why we can't do that; the biggest issue being that some of the demon parts Adam was assembled from are immune to such magic."

Unfazed, Xander continued, "What if you just found a big rock and teleported it over his head?" He slapped his hands together for emphasis. "Then, boom, problem solved."

This time, the watcher frowned. Everyone watched him intently as he seemed to consider the idea, but eventually he shook his head again. "No. Firstly, teleportation is not instantaneous, nor is it completely silent. A demon like Adam would likely be perceptive enough to sense an enormous boulder appearing above his head and have time to get out of the way. Second, if we perhaps had an entire coven of witches here, then just maybe we would be able to teleport a rock massive enough to actually do some damage to him."

"Darn. And here I was hoping we could kill Adam in a completely anti-climatic fashion."

Willow smiled. "Arch-villain felled by giant rock. That would definitely be one for the history books."

"Well," Buffy said to Giles, "Why not call up all your witchy friends, tell them to get on their broomsticks and fly on over here? Then we could do it, right?"

Xander seemed surprised and pleased that Buffy was actually going along with one of his ideas, but Giles looked anything but pleased and Tara was gaping at her like she'd just insulted her grandmother.

"First of all Buffy, that's a horribly offensive stereotype, please refrain from saying such things in my presence again."

Both Willow and Tara nodded in unison.

"Sorry," Buffy mumbled.

Giles continued, "I've been unable to reach any of the covens back home, and," he added bitterly, "the Council would rather see Adam destroy half the country than stoop to providing us with aid. We cannot wait for help; the longer we sit here arguing, the more people will die."

Anya tilted her head, "Oh!" she said, eyes brightening, "That's a subtle hint that Xander should stop coming up with unhelpful ideas, right?"

Again, Giles sighed. "Not as subtle as I intended, unfortunately."

"So, that's it?" Buffy asked. "We bring Faith here, force her to take part in the enjoining ritual and then I go kick Adam's butt?"

Giles shrugged. Buffy wasn't sure if she'd ever seen him make such a gesture before in her life. He must've been really, really tired if even his British reserve was beginning to crack.

"But don't we need Xander for the enjoining spell?" Willow asked.

"Not necessarily," Giles said, barely stifling a yawn. "I believe Tara could fill his role adequately enough, and her magical abilities might also prove useful in prolonging the effects."

Xander slumped in his chair, "You know, this isn't doing much for my self-esteem."

Anya stood behind him, rubbing his shoulders. "It won't be so bad. Remember what happened to the girl in the movie we watched last night? She went to jail and really enjoyed herself." Her brow crinkled in thought, "Actually, come to think of it, all the prisoners seemed to like her - like, _really _like her - even the guards. Is prison really like that?"

All around the room, everyone's expressions ranged from somewhat horrified to enormously so. Xander quickly silenced her, his own face beet red, "Remember what we talked about, Anya? We don't speak to others about the movies we watch after midnight."

"But it's relevant to our discussion!"

Buffy frowned as Xander and Ayna bickered. She already knew far more about the sexual goings-on between those two than she'd ever wanted.

"You'd be there for three or four days," Giles was saying. "We might be able to work out some form of financial compensation for your time."

Anya gasped and shook her boyfriend's shoulders excitedly. "Take it! Take the money!"

"H – How much are we talking here, Giles?" Xander asked. He seemed to be seriously considering the idea. "I won't work for less than minimum wage."

"Minimum wage it is then," Giles said happily.

With her slayer hearing, Buffy could easily pick up the words Anya whispered into Xander's ear, "Honey, that's less than six dollars an hour."

"Oh... right."

"Still," Willow interjected, "That would come to over five-hundred dollars for four twenty-four hour days. That's not so bad, I guess."

Anya beamed in agreement, but then her expression suddenly turned horrified, "Wait!" she squeaked. "We can't let my Xander go in there!" Buffy let out a thankful sigh. Finally, the woman was talking sense. "He'll be surrounded by desperate women!"

Xander grinned as the revelation dawned on him; stuck in a clone of Faith's body and surrounded by women. Buffy put her head in her hands.

Meanwhile, Giles was rapidly losing his patience, "I do hope you both realize that life in a women's correctional facility is nowhere near as erotic as you seem to think it is."

Buffy's frown deepened. She also would've preferred to have gone through the rest of her life without ever hearing Giles utter the word 'erotic.'


	2. Act 1 - Chapter 2

_The Fire in Her Eyes_ by Imrryr

Act 1 – Chapter 2

...

_"Ignoscito sæpe alter, nunquam tibi."_  
_"Forgive others often, yourself never."_  
- Publilius Syrus

...

Faith Lehane

The Southern California Institution for Women. May 2, 2000.

...

Faith stood alone on the edge of a high cliff, a gentle breeze blowing through her hair as she looked out over a dark, forested valley and the wide river meandering slowly through it. The sun was setting and dark clouds filled the sky, but there was no sign of rain.

She knew from long experience that this was only a dream, but she took the time to enjoy it nonetheless. So many of her dreams were unpleasant these days. It was a pleasure just to be free and escape that feeling of being hemmed in from all sides, even if was only for a little while.

And she had to admire just how real it all felt; from the cool air brushing against her skin, to the fresh smells of the trees and grasses, to the myriad sounds of birds, crickets, and even wolves. It all made her slayer dreams feel like passing shadows in comparison. Hell, sometimes she wondered if even Sunnydale had ever felt this real. Of course, she'd never bothered to really pay attention to that sort of thing when she'd had the chance. Funny how being locked in a cage twenty-four seven taught you to appreciate stuff like that.

Faith couldn't help but keep scanning the horizon though. For slayers, even the simplest dream could be loaded with subtle yet important meaning. Or at least that's what her dead watcher used to say. A dream might be a prophetic warning about an upcoming apocalypse, or it could be those unsettling sorts of experiences where Faith inhabited the body of a slayer long dead, facing off against vampires and demons and other things she would need a Giles-sized vocabulary to describe.

In Boston, she certainly had plenty of both, but for some reason after Faith had come to Sunnydale her dreams changed. Sure, there were still frequent glimpses of the lives of past slayers, or of her own childhood, or of Buffy stabbing the mayor as Faith picnicked on the grass with him, but there were also these new dreams where she was just... _there_... someplace she could swear she'd never been before, beholding a world that was alien yet still somehow familiar.

It was all just a little bit weird, but hey, at least no one was trying to kill her.

These days, she couldn't really ask for more than that.

Now sitting on the cold granite outcrop, she glanced to her right and sure enough Buffy was there too, perched not that far away, hands behind her back, feet dangling over the edge, admiring the view.

In these quiet, pleasant dreams, B was always there. It was the weirdest thing.

Of course, it wasn't _actually_ Buffy, they weren't sharing some kind of profound slayer dream or something – that had only ever happened once – and as far as Faith knew, B was busy living it up as a college student at that very moment, attending parties, screwing the BF, and generally doing her utmost to forget that her sister-slayer had ever existed.

Last year, after another one of those unusual dreams - one that involved a city of stone columns and red tiled roofs, an erupting volcano, and a demon of pure flame – Faith had even asked Buffy about it, but no, B been pretty insistent that Faith seldom featured in _her_ dreams, and when she was there, well, the setting was _always_ Sunnydale and they were usually just slaying vamps or something.

It figured. Vampire ex-boyfriend and mystical sacred calling aside, Buffy had a tendency to be annoyingly conventional.

Either that or she was lying.

Faith sniffed the air again. Burning wood. There was always fire in these dreams, and in the distance she could now see smoke billowing up from the trees. Sometimes there were torches, other times entire cities were aflame, but always there was fire. She had no idea why.

Still, the forest remained. It seemed ancient, as old and eternal as the mountain she sat on, yet an inescapable sense of loss fell over her. _'Soon this place will be gone,' _she thought. Somehow, she knew it was true.

Buffy still hadn't met her gaze, but she was smiling and kicking her legs as she stared out at the wilderness beyond. "I think I'll like it here."

"I'm glad," Faith mumbled. Another thing that proved this wasn't a typical slayer dream: it actually felt like she had some control over the words that came out of her mouth. None of that 'Little Miss Muffet' crap. It had been almost a year since that shared dream with Buffy, and the words she'd spoken then still made zero sense to her. When the fuck did she ever speak in nursery rhymes?

Unfortunately, Buffy's responses were another matter entirely. Her lips quirked into a faint smile, "It won't be the same, but that's okay. Everything here changes. Everything except us, it seems."

Faith frowned. "I don't get what you mean, B."

It was the first time the woman actually looked at her and her green eyes seemed to mirror the forest below. "You will, soon."

Faith found that oddly reassuring, until she realized that behind Buffy was an advancing wall of flame being carried along by a stiffening breeze. Trees caught fire, crackling like they were kindling and thick black smoke burned Faith's throat. She coughed and began to panic. This was way too real, even for one of her crazy-ass dreams. As she jumped to her feet, Buffy only looked casually over her shoulder. "Oh, I wouldn't worry about that," she said. "You can't stop it anyway."

In just a few seconds, they were surrounded by fire on every side except for the cliff face itself. Down below, it seemed like the entirety of the ancient forest was ablaze.

"The wind is blowing," B said happily, stretching her legs again. "It feels nice."

Trapped between the inferno and a sheer drop, Faith watched in disbelief as Buffy just sat there without a care in the world as the flames licked her hair until all she could see was fire.

...

Faith awoke to find herself lying on her cot in a cold sweat, her single bed sheet dumped on the concrete floor. It was dark. She groaned. _'Fucking dreams.'_

Her head hit the pillow and she sighed. There weren't any clocks in her cell, but it must've only been an hour or so after lights out, not the least because she could still pick up hushed conversations from the rest of the cellblock with her enhanced hearing. Normally, she wouldn't dream of falling asleep at 7pm like some kind of old lady, but her sleeping schedule was all out of whack these days.

That was the slayer's doing. It wanted out. It wanted to hunt, and as a result Faith's nights tended to be lonely, restless affairs.

During the day she had been catching what little sleep she could, and it helped that she'd already developed a reputation of sorts, mostly at the expense of one chick who wouldn't take a goddamn hint and keep her hands to herself.

Not that Faith was worried about becoming someone's bitch per se - like _that_ would ever happen - she just didn't like clingy chicks, especially since the ones here only wanted something from you. Granted, the nicer ones mostly just wanted companionship, someone to talk to, someone to care for who would actually care about them in return, but even that sort of thing was beyond Faith's limited capabilities. She didn't do relationships.

It also hadn't escaped her notice that many of the girls in relationships here were getting used and had no idea it was happening. Some were used for sex, some for access to shit from outside, others to hurt ex-girlfriends either emotionally or physically. Faith could recognize the latter easiest of all. The mayor had used her to murder people, and to hurt Buffy, all in exchange for power and money and what seemed at the time like love.

Faith had enough of being used; it was why she was in this shithole in the first place... well, part of the reason anyway. It wasn't like she'd been completely unaware of what joining up with the mayor would entail. Her conscience had bugged her constantly then and throughout all the months she'd served the guy. She had just chosen to ignore it.

And really though, punching Deb in the face and being generally unapproachable aside, she was mostly just known as the quiet one. Funny thing that; she had never been particularly quiet when she'd been free.

So, throughout the night and most of the day it was just her and her annoying thoughts. Prison life gave you far too much time to think and reflect, and adapting to that was proving harder than she ever imagined. Normally, when her thoughts turned dark Faith would just go out, preferably to a club, but often to a cemetery where she put everything out of her mind and burnt off all that excess energy she always seemed to have by making a dent in the local demon population.

That's what was so cool about becoming a slayer; she had a _reason_ to be out at night, a purpose of sorts, something beyond a simple desire to quiet her nagging thoughts over whatever her current shitty situation was, or even worse, those memories of growing up that were best left forgotten.

Her first watcher had talked about that a lot; having a purpose.

Faith hadn't really paid attention to her lectures at the time. She was fifteen, and just glad to have a regular meal and a roof over her head during those few hours when she'd actually turn up at her watcher's doorstep, but she never stopped going out and partying, nor did she stop going home with random people.

It was impossible to avoid her watcher's judging eye when she stumbled through the door at ten o'clock in the morning, but though Faith had never said so, it was nice that there was someone out there who seemed to give a shit.

Naturally, it all had to end.

She had to rely on herself. It was the one lesson she'd learned growing up in Boston, and her watcher's death only reinforced it.

However, what she had found in Sunnydale had really thrown her for a loop. There she met Buffy and her rather odd collection of friends. Slayers weren't supposed to have a posse and it was hard to know what to make of Willow, and Xander and the rest of them. They were all right, at first, but also kind of, well, _nerdy_. One moment she wanted to get closer to them, to be accepted, and the next she wanted nothing to do with them.

With one exception, though; she always wanted to be around Buffy. It was clear from the beginning that there was something special about her. Buffy drew people in without even realizing she was doing it. Giles, Willow, Oz, Xander, even Cordelia, they all loved her in their own way, and it wasn't long before Faith discovered that she loved her too. In retrospect, sitting here in a cell with plenty of time to dwell on it, the attraction had been there from the start, but then Faith had never been particularly perceptive. At the time she had just thought Buffy was a total fox.

A completely and utterly straight fox, but hey, there was always hope. There were more than a few girls in Sunnydale who turned out to be not so straight after Faith was finished with them.

So, yeah, in Sunnydale she was protecting people, fighting the good fight and all that. Life was good - well, _kind of _good - and she was starting to get Buffy to let loose a little. At the end there were even nights where it seemed like Buffy might not have been quite as straight as she let on.

Then, of course, Faith had fucked it all up.

Not the killing of Finch - that had been an accident - but the way she had handled it, going immediately into self-protection mode and damn the consequences. Well, that had quickly turned into a nightmare.

The mayor had offered her a way out of it all. He cared about what happened to her, like _really_ cared. Not that sort of caring that Giles and Buffy seemed to offer - the kind that involved lots of secrets and only ringing you up when they needed you for something. No, the mayor was different... or so she had thought.

In the end - big surprise - he was using her too. Wilkens needed someone to do his dirty work, and Faith did it all with a willingness that disgusted her now. However, even after Buffy had stabbed her in the gut to save her boyfriend, when the time finally came to choose between helping the mayor realize his life-long ambition or helping Buffy destroy him, she had chosen Buffy. She couldn't help it. In their shared dream, she told Buffy of the mayor's weakness and B duly went out and killed him at the moment of his ascension.

The mayor had his weakness, Faith had hers.

He was dead now, without ever knowing that Faith had betrayed him. It still hurt a little. Thankfully, her dreams were the only place where she could see the betrayal on her surrogate father's face.

The next time she saw him was on eight months later on a videotape.

'Go out with a bang,' he had said.

She looked up at the drab off-white ceiling that showed more concrete than paint. Some bang.

Even if she hadn't turned herself in and had instead run across the country while in possession of Buffy's body; what kind of life was that? Maybe the mayor had loved her as a daughter... but it was a twisted sort of love if that was the inheritance he left for her.

Faith blinked. Most every night was like this; a trip though her less pleasant memories, constantly reminding herself of every single thing she had done wrong in her short life, all combined with an inexorable feeling of restlessness and a desire to run away and never look back.

Deep inside, the slayer yearned for freedom. It wanted to hunt, to do what it was born to do, but now it was trapped in what was essentially a cage of Faith's making.

Sometimes she wished she could've somehow given the slayer free reign from the start; fighting vampires and demons on her own until she grew so tired she could think to do nothing more than limp into bed in the morning, only to start all over again the next night. She yearned to be out in the open. No walls, no friends, no attachments, _no thoughts_; just her and a stake, saving the world.

Getting involved with others only ever seemed to end in disaster for all concerned.

After nineteen years, Faith figured she would've learned the lesson that everyone was out to use you.

She sighed. Well, everyone except for Angel, it seemed.

Now sitting up in her cot, Faith shook her head and grumbled to herself as her bare feet slid across the cold floor.

Angel had visited her just the other day, and already she was falling back on old ways of thinking.

...

"It just... sucks. You know?" she was saying into the phone. "Everyone's out there, moving on with their lives, and it doesn't matter what I do in here. It won't change what they think of me. I'll always be the girl that fucked up. The psycho who killed some people and wound up in prison."

From the other side of the glass, Angel was staring back at her, doing a far better job of looking like he gave a shit than the prison shrink ever did, "What they think about you isn't what's important, Faith."

She huffed. _Of course_ it was important.

Faith regretted a lot of things - what she did to Angel, and Wesley, and Xander, and several dozen other people besides - but every time she thought about Buffy it left her with this horrible ache in the pit of her stomach, like she had destroyed something incredibly precious and important but couldn't quite put a name on what it was.

"Obsessing over your mistakes, that's no way to go through life. Take it from me."

She smiled. "Yeah, but you're not technically alive."

Angel rolled his eyes, "You'd be surprised how often people remind me of that."

The silence that followed didn't last very long. Angel was seldom deterred whenever Faith tried to change the subject. "You can't let Buffy's opinion of you determine how you feel about yourself."

God. How the fuck did he learn to read her so well? If only she could get out of here and do _something_; something to show B that she had changed. Maybe then she could look at herself in the mirror and not feel completely disgusted.

Then Faith was reminded of that one time she'd actually convinced her mom to go through rehab. They were both so proud when she finally got out. She was like a new woman; a real mother. Life was great - for a few weeks anyway. That was when Faith found the not-so-well hidden liquor bottles in the kitchen. After the shouting match that followed, her mom fell into another one of her bouts of depression, and before long she had lost the only real job she'd held in five years and they were right back to square one. Except soon things got even worse…

Would that be Faith's destiny too? Would she walk out of this place only to pick up right where she left off? Would she let the world swallow her up again?

"Faith?"

She looked back up at him. "Hmm?"

"Where were you just now?"

She sighed, "No place good."

"_Faith_."

"I don't wanna talk about it."

There must've been something in her tone, because Angel actually did let it drop that time.

Still, he stayed there, silently, as the minutes ticked by. "You should consider talking about it, whatever it is you're keeping inside." At Faith's dubious expression he added, "You don't have to talk to _me_, but you should trying talking to _someone_. It might help."

She shook her head. "No one gives a shit. Not even the shrink they make us talk to every week."

Angel stared at her in silence, almost pouting until Faith finally gave in, "Fine, fine. _Almost_ no one gives a shit. Happy?"

The corner of his lip inched up. "Have you given any thought to what we talked about before?"

"The letters? Ugh, no thanks." Three weeks ago, Angel had suggested Faith try writing a letter to someone back in Sunnydale. He had meant either Joyce or Giles, but the only person she could think of actually writing to would be Buffy herself. And what the fuck could she possibly even say? _'Dear Buffy, Hey, what's up? Look, I'm really sorry about the whole body-swap thing, and sleeping with your boyfriend, and almost killing your previous boyfriend, and-'_

"_Faith_."

"Sorry."

"I didn't mean you should actually send them, you know? Just get your feelings out."

Or how about, _'Hey B, remember how I staked that guy and you tried to help me but I figured it'd be easier if I just blamed it all on you? Wasn't that a riot?'_

"You're thinking about Buffy again, aren't you?"

Faith ran a hand through her hair. "How is it you always seem to know what's going on in my head?"

"I've been around for two-hundred years. Had a lot of practice when it comes to reading body language, and Buffy has a way of getting to people, as I was reminded last night."

"You went to see her?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Yeah. It didn't go so well. Apparently, she has a new boyfriend."

"Oh, right," Faith muttered, feigning a degree of ignorance. She hadn't told Angel about everything she'd done in Buffy's body, or in this case, every_one_. "Captain Beefstick."

Angel chuckled. "The name suits him."

Faith laughed too. "So, what? You get into a fight with him or something?" Her smiled dropped when Angel only chuckled nervously in response. "You didn't?"

"Yep. Not exactly my finest hour. Buffy had to separate us."

She shook her head. Exactly how many centuries needed to pass before men grew out of the 'fighting the ex's boyfriend' stage? "So what? You trying to rekindle the old romance?"

Angel's eyes widened a fraction. "_No_. No. I came to the conclusion long ago that it wouldn't work between us. It's why I left Sunnydale in the first place."

Faith wasn't exactly sure why Angel was confiding in her. Maybe he was in as much need of a shoulder to lean on as she was. "So, why'd you go see her?"

"To apologize, and offer my help against the Initiative."

"The Initiative?" The name sounded vaguely familiar...

"Yeah, I've run into them before." Angel was looking over Faith's shoulder at the clock on the wall behind her. "But never mind that. The important thing was she forgave me, Faith, for what I said in L.A. She forgave me for sticking up for you. She forgave me for everything."

Then the phone went dead. Time was up.

...

That was the lesson the big guy had been struggling to teach her for months now. People _weren't_ all the same; they could change, they could surprise you, and not just in the negative way Faith was used to. And eventually, who knows, they might even forgive you.

She put her head in her hands. This sucked. Having no freedom to get away from her thoughts sucked. Knowing that Buffy hated her guts, and that it would be at least twenty-five years before Faith could even begin to make it right... that _really_ sucked.

Faith let out another deep breath. Here she was, wasting what everyone said would be the best years of her life in prison.

Every day for Buffy was another day fighting the good fight, making a difference, and being surrounded by loved ones. Every day for Faith was another day to be forgotten, another reminder that she'd fucked it all up, a day that passed without anyone outside these walls giving a shit whether she lived or died.

Okay, anyone _except for Angel_.

Fuck, she could use a smoke. Sometimes she just wanted to tear her hair out. This place was driving her mad.

But on the other hand, the prospect of actually going back out there, back to the real world, was beginning to frighten her. With the benefit of hindsight and months of self reflection, Faith could see just what she had become in the weeks and months after Finch's death. She didn't like that person. She didn't ever want to go down that road again.

But could she trust herself not to? In the end, was she really any different from the girl who had tried her hardest to ruin Buffy's life?

No, she wasn't.

She stared at her hands. In the end, she would always be Faith. No amount of penance could change who she was.

This was where she truly belonged; safely locked up. If nothing she did could ever make it up to Buffy - the real Buffy, not the one in her head - then the least she could do was suffer for what she had done. After all, that's what prison was for, right?

She glanced at the tiny hand-mirror lying propped up on her small plastic table then immediately slapped it down. Hair in disarray, skin losing its color, muscles turning soft from little use. Even in the dark, she looked like _shit_.

Faith fell back onto the bed. It was going to be another one of those nights. Gradually, the whispers of her fellow inmates died down completely until the only thing she could hear was the beating of her own heart. Strangely, it was actually dark in her cell now, like _really_ dark, not nightlight dark. Perhaps the lights in the cellblock were out?

Hmm. Maybe she'd actually be able to get a decent night's sleep for a change.

She steadied her breathing and did her best to clear her mind. Before long, her eyes drifted shut only to shoot open again. A light was shining from the center of her cell, just hovering in midair like some kind of weird magical floating orb thing.

"The fuck is -"

For a few moments, Faith just laid there, mesmerized by the light as it remained fixed in front of her, shining like a star; a star that was growing inexorably larger and brighter. Finally, her instincts kicked in and she rolled off the cot and onto the floor. Scrambling under the thing, she dove for the door on the far side of the cell, determined to pull the whole thing off its hinges if need be. That was probably a bit much to ask in her current state, but in the end it didn't matter because there was no door to be found. She spun on her heels. Despite all the light, the concrete walls of her cell were now nothing more than an inky black void that she couldn't so much as punch a fist through.

She knew that because it was the next thing she tried.

"Son of a -," Faith shook her stinging hand as she backed up against the black, solid wall where the door used to be.

Not only was the light shining brighter than a hundred watt bulb, it was still expanding, pulsating in size and brightness, her cot and tiny desk lost behind it. The ionized air began to swirl around her until it felt like she was trapped inside a miniature tornado, scattering what little she owned all over the cell. Then something grew from the very center of - of whatever the hell this thing was. She blinked. Deep inside the orb, she saw the interior of another room, one complete with a table and sofa, only upside down and dimly lit.

As it grew, it began to look more and more like the kind of setup a stuffy old British dude might have; fancy carpet, heavy oak furniture, wall to wall bookshelves. Squinting from the brightness, Faith could just make out the silhouettes of people gathered round, as if waiting for something... or someone. Had the council caught up to her? Had they finally come to the conclusion that a state prison wouldn't contain Faith should she decide to go rogue again?

"Sons of bitches," she muttered. The last thing she wanted was to be in the 'care' of a bunch of strangers who looked on her as little more than a weapon, and a defective one at that. What would they do with her? Experiment on her? Erase her memory? Kill her? _Fuck_. Angel wasn't going to come to the rescue this time.

Her body flush against the wall, the small notebook she kept hit her in the face before rejoining the swirling mass of paper, clothing, and bits of trash. Now the glowing ball of light took up practically the entire room. She could feel the thing pulling her in, and her hands felt instinctively for something, anything, to hold on to.

There was nothing.

The next thing she knew there was a crack like thunder and she was falling into oblivion.


	3. Act 1 - Chapter 3

_The Fire in Her Eyes_ by Imrryr

Act 1 – Chapter 3

...

"For in spite of language, in spite of intelligence and intuition and sympathy, one can never really communicate anything to anybody. The essential substance of every thought and feeling remains incommunicable, locked up in the impenetrable strong-room of the individual soul and body. Our life is a sentence of perpetual solitary confinement."

- Aldous Huxley

...

Sunnydale. May 2nd, 2000.

...

If this was another dream, it was a particularly shitty one.

Faith had no time to find her bearings before she collapsed onto the hardwood floor, clutching her stomach in agony. "Son of a bitch," she muttered, barely suppressing the desire to vomit as a heavy coat was quickly thrown over her. It was only then that she realized she was completely naked.

Slightly less surprising was the sound of Giles' familiar reserved voice, "Unfortunately, one of the side-effects of the teleportation spell is a profound sense of vertigo. It should soon pass."

"Teleportation spell," Faith repeated over the ringing in her ears, her eyes screwed shut again as she willed the world to stop spinning, "And my clothes?"

"That... was not supposed to happen."

"Good to know," she grumbled as she pushed herself to her knees. A circle of salt and evenly spaced candles surrounded her on the floor. Giles must've learned some new tricks while she was away.

After one last bout of coughing, the roiling in her stomach calmed enough for Faith to rise warily to her feet, covering her naked body with Giles' oversized coat while struggling to maintain some semblance of dignity. Every day she had to shower in front of dozens of other inmates and get patted down by the skeevy prison guards. If she had any modesty before, it was completely gone by now, but still, there was no reason why some old watcher dude should get a peek.

Then she looked up and discovered that her audience consisted of a lot more than just Giles.

There she was, Buffy Summers, in the flesh, leaning against the wall, her expression completely unreadable. Her face and hands were crossed with cuts and marred with faint bruises, and there was a bad wound over her right eye. Faith had looked like that once, right after her first encounter with Kakistos. Their eyes met, but Buffy didn't scowl, or sneer, or do anything that Faith expected her to do. She just stared back blankly.

It was incredibly unnerving.

Meanwhile, Willow, Willow's girlfriend What's-her-face, and some other blonde-haired chick she didn't recognize were all sitting on the couch together, watching, and waiting, and judging.

Wonderful. What was this, the world's most overdue intervention?

Faith dropped into an easy-chair and wrapped the coat more tightly around herself. She frowned. The chair smelled like the coat, musty, like it belonged in a library. And who knows, perhaps Giles had fished it out of the ruins of the Sunnydale High library himself. That would help explain all the damaged books he had stacked against the walls of his living room.

"Glad you could join us," he said with the faintest hint of a smile, somehow managing to sound like he meant it.

Willow, on the other hand, looked as though she was trying to crush Faith's head with her mind. "That makes one of us."

Thankfully, Giles continued as if she wasn't even there, "I don't think you've met Tara and Anya," he said, gesturing to the couch.

Faith waved half-heartedly. She vaguely recalled meeting, and insulting, Tara once before while in Buffy's body. Anya she didn't recognize at all, but there was something about her that sent Faith's slayer senses off - not at vamp or demon levels, or anything - but there was definitely something unusual about her; or in other words, she was another perfect addition to Buffy's little circle of misfits.

Meanwhile, as she leaned against the wall looking like she'd rather be anywhere else, Buffy remained thankfully silent as Giles inexplicably handed Faith a mug of tea... Faith, the girl who had tried to ruin all their lives. She wanted to laugh at how awkward this all was, but yeah, that probably wouldn't go over well. "So..." she drawled before taking a sip, "what's going on?"

Willow huffed, with an eye roll added in for good measure, while Giles sat down calmly in the chair opposite, cup in hand. "We have a bit of a situation here, and could use your help."

Ah, so that was it. Not even a murder rap could keep her from being called up to help Buffy and her friends. Awesome.

Unwanted memories of last year flashed through her mind, but Faith did her best not to let her irritation show. If the Scoobies wanted her to do their dirty work and then forget all about her afterwards, just like old times, who was she to argue? She could do it for the rest of her life and still not make up for the all the wrongs she'd committed.

"All right," Faith said with a sigh. "What do you want me to do?"

Giles slipped easily into watcher-mode, explaining just what had happened over the past several months. Faith knew bits of it already, from those few days immediately following her waking from her coma, but evidently the situation was far more serious than she had assumed. There was a monster out there, a Frankenstein-type creature assembled from the most deadly bits of all the most powerful demons Sunnydale had to offer. She had to give the hellmouth credit; it certainly knew how to keep upping the ante.

"So, I help you guys with this spell, Buffy gets some kind of crazy slayer power, and Adam dies?"

"Put succinctly, yes," Giles said.

She frowned in thought, "I don't really know anything about magic."

"That won't be a problem, I assure you."

"_Okay_," Faith drawled, "but what about the prison?" The clock on the wall now read 11:17. "In about forty-five minutes the midnight watch is going to realize I'm not in my cell."

Giles nodded in understanding. "I've procured someone at considerable expense to take your place," he said, which earned him a glare from Willow.

Faith blinked. Was it her, or did Giles' plan sound kind of ridiculous? More ridiculous than usual, at any rate. "I don't really see how that's gonna work, G-man." Unless this replacement was her long lost twin, people were bound to notice the difference. Her fellow prisoners weren't nearly as oblivious as the average Sunnydale resident.

Giles stood up, "Our solution is a rather novel one actually," he said, making his way to the stairwell. He called upstairs, "You really should come down now."

Faith froze when she heard an answering grunt. There was something familiar in the voice. Turning in her seat, her mouth dropped open at the sight of herself awkwardly descending the stairs, dressed in a flannel shirt and ill-fitting jeans. She grimaced. This was a little too much like her experience in Buffy's body, and Buffy looked just as unhappy about it.

"Xander has volunteered to take your place," Giles explained. At Faith's even more bewildered look he elaborated, "We put a glamour spell on him."

It was a struggle not to simply dismiss the idea out of hand. "So, _Xander_ is going to replace me?" Seriously, Xander, in prison? He wouldn't last five minutes. "No offense, but this idea of yours isn't exactly sane."

"Well, you'd know all about that," Buffy muttered from across the room.

Faith looked down at her hands. She'd walked right into that one.

Giles was busy cleaning his glasses, "I admit, this plan is somewhat _inelegant_ but I would rather not have to worry about the police while we're trying to take care of the much larger problem."

She sighed. It went unsaid that she was going right back to prison when all this was over. Freedom – even for just a day - was better than nothing, but she had to ask, "Why not just get Angel to help or something?"

Giles crossed his arms. "We have a solution, but it requires _you_, not Angel."

Faith frowned. She detected something akin to bitterness in the man's tone. Too proud to ask for the big guy's help, perhaps? Buffy's expression was still unreadable. Sure, she had moved on – and was presumably still dating Riley, though he didn't seem to be here at the moment - but Faith just had to wonder what went through B's mind whenever the subject of Angel came up.

She turned to Xander, who was still standing at the foot of the stairs looking distinctly uncomfortable. "Prison's no picnic. You sure you wanna do this, Xan-Man?"

He shrugged, but it was Willow who spoke, "No one _wants_ to do any of this, and no one wants you here either!"

Faith's eyes narrowed. She would take shit from Buffy all day and night, but Willow was a different story entirely.

Giles, however, put an end to everything before the situation boiled over. "_Enough_. This is the only way we can succeed. We must all put aside our differences for the common good. We can't afford to wait for the Council, or the covens, or the Army to come and defeat Adam. We must do it ourselves, and as quickly as possible." Everyone in the room froze, surprised by his outburst.

"And what's to keep her from just skipping town?" Willow asked into the silence.

In answer, Giles walked across the room to a rather unassuming nightstand in the far corner. Like everything else, it had books stacked on it. Fishing a key out of his pocket, he opened the small drawer and pulled out two nearly identical silver chain necklaces. Hanging from each was an oval pendant; one of red crystal, and the other blue. As he returned with them, it was clear that the two pendants were each glowing faintly with their own light. Magic seemed to pour off them. Faith didn't even need to open her eyes to know that. She could _sense_ it.

"Faith. These necklaces cannot be taken more than a hundred yards from one another. If you're willing, I will give one to you and one to Buffy."

He offered Faith the red one, which she took, immediately surprised by its weight. "How do these things work, exactly?" she asked, turning the heavy pendant over in her palm. It was a unique experience, to say the least, and felt like holding a piece of molten rock that was somehow still cold to the touch. When she stared deeply into its smooth, fiery surface she could make out what appeared to be words trapped inside. However, every time it seemed like she might be able to read something, the words would melt away only to be replaced with new ones.

Only Giles' cough, and the realization that everyone was staring at her, kept Faith from spending the next half-hour getting lost in it.

"The red necklace gives an incapacitating shock to the wearer whenever the blue necklace is out of range," he said.

'_Oh, right__.__'_ Somewhat reluctantly, Faith handed the necklace back to him. "So, Buffy's my P.O. and this is my ankle monitor. Got it."

It was obvious that no one in the room understood what she was talking about, and Giles slipped the necklace over her head without comment. The instant it fell around her neck, Faith felt a brief wave of magic rush over her. It was like walking out of a cold, dank tomb and into the warm light of the sun. For something that was meant to be a magical leash, it felt surprisingly pleasant.

Xander asked what was on everyone's mind, but fuck was it ever weird to hear him speaking in her voice, "Wait. Can't she just take it off?"

Giles shook his head as he gave the second necklace to Buffy. The woman took it in her hand and actually smiled as its blue light shone on her face, seemingly just as enthralled by it as Faith had been. As B slipped the necklace over her head, Faith felt that magical rush again. For just a split second, Buffy locked eyes with her, like maybe she had felt it too.

"Faith," Giles said, "I hate to ask this, but could you please try to remove your necklace?"

Nodding suspiciously, Faith reached for it and the instant the tip of her finger touched the chain a burning shock shot straight up her arm. "Son of a bitch!" she cried as the muscles in her arm turned to jelly and she fell out of her chair. Every nerve ending felt like it was on fire. Fuck, was it ever painful.

Satisfied, Willow leaned back on the couch and actually smiled, _the bitch_. Buffy just looked at her feet, one hand on the pendant around her neck.

"Once activated, the red necklace can only be removed by me. Just keep yours on, Buffy, and Faith will be unable to touch either the necklace or your person."

Faith slinked back into her chair. She had to hand it to the G-Man; he had really thought this one through.

Anya looked ready to fall asleep, but Willow's girlfriend was sitting up, intrigued by it all. "How did you make those, Mister Giles?"

"Well, I had to improvise. I combined a protection spell with an ancient bonding ritual."

"A bonding ritual?" Willow repeated, her brow furrowed.

Giles was nervously watching the clock; it was getting closer to midnight. "I can describe the process later, if you like."

The strange Xander/Faith hybrid appeared to still be confused though. "Why does it only hurt when she touches it with her hand?"

Stifling a yawn, Giles waved his question away.

"So," Faith began a little reluctantly, as she tried to shake the remaining tingles out of her arm, "I take part in this ritual thing, and what exactly is supposed to happen?" Nothing exceptionally painful or disorienting, she hoped.

"Well, after the words have been spoken, our powers should combine and enter Buffy. She will then use those powers to defeat Adam as quickly as she can."

"There a time-limit or something?"

"Yes. I'm not sure how long the effects of the spell will last."

"I can't believe we're going through with this," Buffy muttered.

Again, there was that uncomfortable silence. There was a whole lot of judging going on this room, and with the exception of Giles, and maybe Tara, everyone looked like they expected Faith to do... _something_. Whether that something was for her to start throwing punches, or try bolting for the door, she didn't know. Either one sounded good right about now.

Again Faith sighed. "I'll do whatever you guys want me to do."

Buffy's narrowed eyes said it all: what she wanted was for Faith to leave and never come back.

"Very good then," Giles said as he poured himself another cup of tea, seemingly oblivious to the tension all around him.

"So, when do we do this?" Faith asked.

"Once we send Xander through the gate, Willow, Tara, and I will go someplace quiet for the day to recharge our magical energies."

"Ooh, the Channel Islands?" Tara suggested.

Willow perked up, "French Polynesia?"

Giles sighed. "I was thinking more along the lines of the woods north of town."

"Oh… darn," Willow said, smiling at Tara before seeming to remember that there was not just one but _two_ Faiths in the room. Then it was back to the scowling.

"We'll be ready to attempt the ritual on Thursday, if all goes well."

If this were last year, Faith would've made some off-color remark about Giles wanting some alone time with two girls half his age, but there was no way in hell she was doing that now. This whole room was giving off some serious keep-your- mouth-shut vibes.

"What am I supposed to do while you're gone?" Buffy asked.

"Look for any sign of Adam's whereabouts, but for the love of God, do _not_ engage him."

Buffy pushed herself off the wall and nodded firmly. "I can do that."

Giles turned his attention to the salt-outlined circle lying in front of his television, using a large brush to reshape the bits that Faith had accidentally mussed up. "Oh, and Buffy?" The slayer stopped just as she put her hand on the doorknob. "Take Faith with you."

...

Faith rubbed her ear. She'd never heard the word 'what' shouted with such intensity before.

It hadn't exactly been pleasant to sit there like a prisoner awaiting sentencing while Buffy and Willow rattled off a long list of reasons why Faith couldn't be trusted to step so much as a foot outside: she had tried to pin the death of the deputy mayor on Buffy, she'd helped Mayor Wilkens with his plans to ascend and then destroy the town and everyone in it, she had tried to strangle Xander, she'd almost killed Angel, she had murdered an innocent man... If they'd had more time they might've even gotten to the stuff she'd done _after_ waking from her coma, but for some damn reason Giles stopped them. Why the old man was so quick to come to her defense, Faith didn't know. He didn't owe her shit.

Eventually, Buffy had to be reminded that Adam's dream was to create an entire _army_ of demons, and he'd already had two whole days to get started.

Faith, meanwhile, kept silent and didn't so much as look up from the floor. She had long been used to stepping into rooms only to find everyone completely displeased to see her. Back then she couldn't have given a fuck what anyone thought, but of course things had changed.

Now she actually did care, but every moment of this brief trip outside prison walls only served to remind her of the myriad things she had done wrong in her life. Even with a magical leash tethering her to her sister-slayer, the old Faith would've reveled in this kind of freedom, likely being torn between finding a way to escape and using her forced close proximity to Buffy to mess with the girl's mind.

Faith sure as fuck wasn't reveling in _this_ though. Here she was, quietly tagging along with someone who hated her guts. The one girl in all the world who had the most reason to want her dead.

At least Giles had been kind enough to give her some of the clothes she'd left behind in her old apartment. Her old leather boots fit like a second skin, so much better than those floppy, prison issued slippers she'd been wearing the past few months. However, her plain white shirt and leather pants were another story. Unfortunately, the prison didn't dole out extra portions to someone with a slayer's metabolism.

But hey, it still beat those ugly-ass prison jumpsuits.

Meanwhile, silently and resentfully, Buffy led the way across town to Rosefield Cemetery. Even for a typical Sunnydale weeknight, the streets were quiet and it didn't take long to figure out why; vampires and demons were lurking behind practically every parked car and telephone booth, escapees from Adam's grand melee.

Buffy made short work of them, which was a good thing, because while all the old moves came back naturally to Faith, much of her usual strength was decidedly absent.

Not having a stake didn't help much either, but at least Faith was able to improvise by snapping off a branch.

Meanwhile, Buffy fought with a silent mix of anger and frustration that Faith found a little disturbing, and by the time they were finished with Rosefield, they left for the next cemetery with several downed trees and one toppled tombstone to mark their presence.

Buffy was really letting loose, and admittedly it would've actually been pretty damn hot had Faith not been busy fearing for her life. She'd always had a weakness for Buffy being all sweaty and out of breath, but right now the wild-eyed slayer looked like she might snap at any second, throw Faith against a tree, and stake her like the twenty-some vamps she'd already dealt with.

So, for self-preservation purposes, Faith was keeping her distance, or rather _trying_ to, but Buffy seemed intent on keeping Faith constantly in her sights. And since she had no intention of running away - besides, another test of her necklace's power? Holy shit. She'd fucking pass on that – it all just meant that Buffy was doing a lousy job of looking out for the various creatures of the night. Faith had already been forced to warn B of approaching vamps more than once.

She wondered, if Adam were to show, just who would Buffy be more wary of?

"Why'd you do it?"

Faith nearly tripped over her own feet. "Do what?" she asked, again stopping as Buffy stopped, taking care to keep her distance.

"Why'd you turn against us? Against _me_?"

Faith swallowed. That wasn't a question that could be easily answered. "I - I don't know, B." It was partly the truth, but still a cop-out and Buffy knew it.

Her expression turned red hot in a flash, and suddenly she was up in Faith's face. "Giles gave me some sob story; trying to say it was our fault you went crazy, something about a broken home or whatever. Poor little Faith, if only we had loved her-"

Faith clenched her fists at her sides, but she didn't flinch or step back.

"- Like that excuses your murdering ways, or your stealing my body so that I could take the Council's punishment for you."

There were a million things Faith could've said in response; she could've tried describing just how alienated she felt even in the days when they were sort of friends, how Buffy kept secrets from her all the time, how she hated the jealous looks Willow would always give her… but it all just sounded so completely pathetic.

The fact was, the mere thought of her sister-slayer it a fire in Faith's belly so strong she hadn't a clue how to deal with it. Never had she wanted anything as much as she had wanted Buffy. It was scary, and to be honest, it was _still _scary. A year later and that feeling was still there, tearing at her insides whenever she so much as looked at the woman.

And when it became perfectly clear that Buffy would never, _could never_, be interested in someone like her, Faith burnt it all down, destroying any hope that they could ever be friends again. Push Buffy away and it all wouldn't hurt so much, right?

But when B then went after the mayor, what was she supposed to do? Let her kill the only person who cared for her? So, _fine_, she'd thought; B hurts you, you hurt her back. Revenge; that was something she easily understood. And when Faith would look into Buffy's eyes and those old feelings immediately resurfaced, well, she'd just keep reminding herself of the woman's mistakes while doing her best to forget her own. Everyone did it, right? How else could people live with themselves when they fucked up?

Except, yeah, it was a horrible thing to do and Buffy hadn't deserved any of it.

What had Faith even wanted from her? Sex? Friendship? Love? Fuck, she didn't know. Looking into those same green eyes now, Faith felt a hundred different confusing emotions - anger, love, jealousy, lust - just as if not a single day had passed since the night they first met. _'__Fuck. You make me crazy, B.'_

She didn't dare say it.

Back in LA, similar words had been on her lips as she tortured Wesley - _'You made me this way__' - _and at the time, she'd believed every word. Wesley, Angel, Buffy, they all deserved everything she'd done to them. It was _their _fucking fault. Self-righteous fury; that's what got her through her darkest days.

Fucking _bullshit_.

Every single one of those tired old excuses rang hollow in her ears now.

In the end, Faith was left with the same dilemma she'd been struggling with since that night in LA. There was nothing she could say to Buffy; no words that could ever come remotely close to excusing all she had done. Maybe she should stop trying to find them. Words like that simply didn't exist.

So, what could she say? Only one thing came to mind.

She opened her mouth only to shut it immediately. _'Apologize to me and I will beat you to death,' _Buffy had said. It wasn't something Faith would forget for as long as she lived.

Buffy laughed in her face, as if she were reading her mind. "So, that's really it, huh? You had a bad childhood so you're not responsible for anything you did?"

Fists clenched to the point of drawing blood, Faith narrowed her eyes but refused to move. If Buffy wanted to go to town on her, she was welcomed to.

They stood there, staring each other down for the longest time, the world around them completely forgotten. It wasn't easy maintaining eye contact with Buffy, but Faith did it nonetheless. Old habits die hard. You don't show weakness to your enemy. And maybe Buffy wasn't her enemy, but that certainly wasn't how the blonde woman saw things.

Finally, B snapped. "Answer me, dammit!" she shouted, grabbing Faith by the upper arm, triggering a bright flash of light from their twin pendants. In that instant Faith was seized by the worst pain she had ever experienced; much, much worse than being stabbed in the gut with her own knife. The next thing she knew, she was face down in the dirt, screaming and clawing at the ground, her muscles burning in ways she hadn't thought possible.

Through the searing pain, it was all Faith could do to keep from crying. She'd expected more, for Buffy to kick her when she was down, but when she finally rolled onto her back, B was just standing over her, her arms crossed, and her face again an unreadable mask. Faith stared back in a mixture of shock and terror, heart pounding like mad. Finally, Buffy shook her head and turned away. Her voice was so very quiet, yet every word cut like a knife, "I wish I had never met you."

As the blonde stalked off, Faith sat there in the dirt, breathing heavily. Buffy should've just grabbed her arm again. That would've hurt a lot less.

* * *

With Faith not-so-closely at her side, the two slayers fought vamps and demons for several more hours until practically every muscle in Buffy's body ached, no longer with the pain of her last confrontation with Adam, but with normal exertion. Well, normal for a slayer at any rate. It was a little like the old days, only without Faith's constant baiting and sexual innuendos.

Faith wasn't exactly saying much of anything, to be honest.

She certainly appeared to be more in control of herself these days, but like everything else involving Faith it was probably just an act; an attempt to get Buffy to let her guard down or to mess with her head in some new and unique way.

After all their history together, and her recent experience of being played the fool by Spike, Buffy wasn't buying it.

Still, in the less important outwardly way, Faith _had_ changed. Gone was the makeup, and the dark lipstick she preferred to wear. Her old clothes didn't fit as well either, and despite it all, Buffy found herself disturbed by just how thin she looked now. Faith also kept her eyes locked on the ground at all times, dragging her tired feet as she walked and looking decidedly gloomy while doing so.

The sight was disconcerting, and not in the way Faith's mere presence used to make her feel ages ago, back when such disconcerting feelings were actually kind of welcome. It hadn't just been the joy of fighting alongside someone who actually understood her messed-up life, though that was definitely nice, but more the way being with Faith always led to the unexpected. Faith was always pushing her, always daring her to step out of her comfort zone.

When she arrived at the beginning of Buffy's senior year, Faith had given her something she hadn't known she wanted. With her sister slayer, Buffy found someone who could always keep up with her, someone who was fun, someone who always treated her like an equal... someone, sadly, quite unlike her boyfriend, Riley.

And fighting side by side with Faith _had_ been fun, but in typical Buffy Summers fashion, their most memorable night together turned quickly into a nightmare.

And it had been a constant nightmare ever since.

She sighed as she marched quickly ahead of Faith. Those days were over, never to return, and an unsettling feeling of loss hit her whenever she so much as looked at the other girl now. Life was so much easier when Faith was out of sight.

Glancing over her shoulder, she could see Faith grasping her shoulder as she struggled to keep up. Giles had said that Faith couldn't so much as touch her without being wracked with serious pain, but that warning had honestly been the last thing on her mind when she'd angrily grabbed the younger woman's arm a few hours ago.

And it struck her then that the sight of Faith crumpled on the ground and whimpering in pain hadn't given her the sense of triumph she'd long expected. Instead, the only thought on her mind afterwards was, _'You're better than this.'_

As Buffy walked on, she kicked a stone in anger and sent it flying over the cemetery wall.

Sometimes she wondered what was happening to her. She'd been a slayer for five years, spending night after night battling with demons and the undead. What if her nocturnal activities were affecting her in ways too subtle to notice? Would she even recognize the girl who had moved to Sunnydale four long years ago, the girl who only dreamed of living a normal life and maybe doing some cheerleading after school?

Lately, she'd been plagued by self-doubt and this growing sense of impending doom, like she hadn't long to live. Some nights it seemed like the only thing on her mind was death, and for too long she'd been having really bad dreams; falling to her death, a city in flames, dragons, and worse things besides. Did this happen to every slayer who endured their calling as long as she had? Did they all lose their minds after years spent alone with only demons and the undead for company?

Buffy frowned. Maybe she should've dropped Psych 101 when she had the chance.

The more immediate question was what to do with Faith until they needed her again. The college dorms were off-limits and she couldn't just drop her off at Giles' house either, not with this damned magical leash. Besides, Buffy wasn't particularly keen on spending a night on his sofa.

In the end, she found herself walking down Revello Drive just as dawn began to break. At least at her mom's she'd have her old bed to sleep on.

Unexpectedly, the front door opened just as she was about to put the key in the lock. Joyce stood there, dressed for work and not looking especially surprised to see her. "Mom? You're awake?"

"Mister Giles left a message on the machine. Something about unexpected visitors," she said, a tiny smile forming on her lips.

Buffy swallowed nervously. "You know about Faith then?"

Joyce nodded.

"I - I'm sorry. I couldn't think of any place to take her, and with all the things going on -"

"Things?" Joyce repeated.

"Uh, yeah. You remember what happened at graduation?"

Her mom's eyes went wide. "_Again_? I knew I should've voted for the other guy."

"_No_, no. No mayor this time. It's just, there's another potentially town-destroying scenario playing out," Buffy said lamely. She always felt a little odd telling her mother about slayer business, like maybe one day she would just snap and have her sent to an asylum.

That feeling would've probably been a little less pronounced if her mom and dad hadn't already done that once before when she was fifteen.

"Oh... I see," Joyce said, in a way that indicated she didn't, not really anyway.

"You should really leave until all this blows over."

"Buffy, if I left every time there was a demonic emergency in this town, I'd lose my job. Unless... do you think I'm in danger specifically?"

Would Adam target her mom? It didn't really seem like his style. "No. He... _Adam_... he doesn't consider anyone a threat at this point," she said, her voice wavering a little.

Joyce seemed to consider the meaning behind the words and noticeably paled. Then, without warning, she wrapped Buffy up in a tight hug.

Buffy squeezed her back. "I'm so sorry, Mom. I should come by more... and not just to do laundry."

"It's all right. We can make up for it later," Joyce said before pulling away slowly.

"Have you been waiting for us all night?"

"Oh, no," Joyce said, checking her watch. "I have to get the gallery ready. We've got an important shipment of African art coming in this morning."

Buffy nodded dully. Whatever had kept her going through for the past several hours was definitely wearing off. She yawned. Another night spent slaying, and this time with her mortal enemy in tow. Ugh. Worst freshman year _ever_.

"In fact," Joyce continued, "we could use some volunteers to move all the crates."

'_Oh, crap. Think, Buffy, think!'_ "I have finals to study for!" she blurted out much too loudly, startling her mother for a second before her lips curved into a knowing smile. Thank God for class work. That old excuse had gotten her out of unpaid grunt work at the gallery more times than she could count.

Joyce sighed, "All right, all right." Scanning the porch, she frowned. "And where is Faith?"

"Over there," Buffy said, looking over her shoulder to find her arch nemesis leaning against a tree in the front yard, arms crossed and dark eyes staring at the grass at her feet, looking as sullen and haunted as ever.

Bizarrely, her mom's answering frown seemed directed more at her than at Faith, the girl with the annoying habit of ruining everyone's lives. "Well," she said, pushing the door open, "invite her in."

* * *

AN – Poor Faith :c Don't worry, Buffy won't hate her forever.


End file.
